Fermentations

Posted on | November 28, 2005

If the harvests indisputably mark the end of a cycle, the fermentations mark, for me, another. Without doubt, because I am not born a wine-maker but I chose to become one, this phase of transformation always remains for me an intense moment of marvel and joy.

To sense this life, these millions of yeasts in the process of being born, working then dying, to assist so close to this fundamental upheaval is truly for me a powerful moment in the year. The vinfication of several miniscule parcels of Clos des Fèes in demi-muids of 500 litres accentuates even more this complicity. In one tub, and God knows they are small in our garage, one does not see nor feel the same thing. Sure, during the pumping over, the grape juice is in the process of being transformed and is there, within reach. But perhaps you haven’t seen it? I will take a photo. It resembles this, in fact, grape juice under fermentation:

 

 

In the demi-muids, one feels the whole cycle. The grapes, naturally very cold this year thanks to the nights of 10° or 12° since the 20 September, form little by little its "all" whilst mixing slowly their respective juices. Little by little, the anthocyanins start to pass into the must, which at our place, colours incredibly fast. Since the beginning of the fermentation, one can slowly bury the cap with one’s hands in the warm juice, for the resistence is minimal. One then feels the different zones of temperature, and with a little experience, one is quickly conscious of a natural rhythm of the process which, hour after hour, takes off or slows down. It invites ones attention, one even physically feels the differences in density, day after day, simply because the sensation of the contact with the skin gradually changes whilst the sugar diminishes and the alcohol forms. It seems to me like plunging one hands into…life. OK I stop there, this risks becoming a little too intimate.

Apart from that, it’s Thursday. As usual, towards 6, the driver from the laboratory passes by to pick up the samples for analysis. As usual, I will tell him that for the moment, I don’t feel the need for them and that in MY opinion, everything is going fine. As usual, he will take me for a madman. As usual, I will smile. As usual, he will leave, without doubt thinking that I am an idiot to refuse the help of modern techniques. As usual, I will think that there is a big risk in rationalising by oneself but that it is the only way possible if I want to continue to make MY wine and not a wine conforming to some analytical standard. As usual, the rain will continue to fall…

[from 10 October, 2005]

Hervè Bizeul 

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